Puzzle Pieces in History
by ncfan
Summary: A lot of things make sense now. Rory, River. Spoilers for 'A Good Man Goes to War.'


I own nothing.

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><p>If you'd asked him or if you'd ever had the <em>chance<em> to ask him, Rory Pond (or Williams depending on who says it, but that's another story), would have told you that he expected any child he had to look like Amy. What he'd wanted was a little girl who was a carbon copy of her mother (perhaps with a sweeter temperament, but only because it would mean that she'd be less likely to get into trouble). If not a daughter, than a son with Amy's looks and fire but with Rory's common sense. That would be nice.

He expected any child of his and Amy's to look like Amy. But instead, what Rory gets is a child who far more closely resembles him than Amy. Oh yes, their daughter has Amy's eyes, her mouth, the shape of her face, but other than that she looks like her father. Rory's nose, Rory's hair color, Rory's strong jaw. The only thing he can't explain is _"Where did all those curls come from?"_

Well, there is something else. He can't explain how he never noticed the resemblance before. Rory can't explain how he never noticed how much River Song resembled him and Amy before. It should have been obvious from the start, but instead Rory couldn't get past the gun in her hand or the _Doctor _attached to her name or the way she could kill malevolent creatures with an unaffected smile on her face.

She just seemed so alien. She didn't seem like she could be any relation of his.

All things considered, Rory can be forgiven for not noticing because how on Earth can anyone be _expected_ to realize that a time-traveling convict doctor with a gun is their child from the future? This isn't the sort of thing people come across every day; Rory can be forgiven for not automatically assuming that the mysterious woman with a gun who keeps exchanging suggestive banter with the Doctor is his daughter.

He can be forgiven for having no idea of what to say when she does reveal herself as such.

_Well… _Rory swallows, feeling all the air burn to ash in his lungs. All he can do is stare at River, _Melody_, who is wearing such a face as he's never seen on her before: lip twitching on one side, so minute he can barely see it. Her eyes are unnaturally wide and bright, even more so than when she was telling him about her birthday with the Doctor. This is the closest he's come to seeing River wear an even remotely vulnerable expression.

_A lot of things make sense now._

There's something that's always perplexed Rory. River is without a doubt a secretive woman, always keeping things close to her chest but for some reason, she was always more than happy to talk to him. About the Doctor, about herself, about anything at all. She became nothing if not a little chatterbox around him and Rory always felt more than a little uncomfortable at this. _If Doctor Song is talking to me like this, _he always told himself, _it can not be a good thing. _

She had absolutely no reason to afford him the role of confidant like she did, no reason to just immediately trust him with deep, dark thoughts and girlish secrets.

"_The day's coming when I'll look into that man's eyes, my Doctor, and he won't have the faintest idea who I am. And I think it's going to kill me."_

River had no reason to tell Rory this.

"_It's my birthday. The Doctor took me ice-skating on the Thames in 1814, the last of the great frost fairs."_

She had no reason to tell him this. Except she did.

And Rory had had no idea _why_ River was so willing to tell him this. The memory of the smile fading from River's face after telling him about her birthday suddenly stings and what she said before while they were fighting the Silence (_"And I think it's going to kill me."_) stings even more.

It makes sense now. Things fit now, like finding the last piece to a jigsaw puzzle and even though Rory knows he couldn't have known who River was and what she was to him, he still feels like he should have known, should have guessed something. Should have seen the gleam in her eyes and peeled away what was behind it. Should have been smart enough to guess why River was so at ease in his company.

No matter. One thing Rory has learned over nearly two thousand years of guarding a box with the woman he loves inside, is that if he lets guilt eat him alive he'll be useless as a dirty little dishrag being used to beat out a forest fire.

Rory kept himself alive all those years, guarding Amy, by thinking of _anything_ but his guilt. He thought of the day he'd be able to see Amy again, thought of the Doctor, of home, of the hospital and yes of River, but never of what it was like when her back arced like a crescent moon, never of what it was like to watch her lips go blue and her eyes glaze over and close. Never of what it was like to watch her mouth close for the last time.

Except when he slept. More accurately, when he tried to sleep. Then, it was inescapable.

Now, Rory has a question and frankly, he has a bone to pick with the Doctor.

Rory has just come to the realization that he has been listening to the Doctor and _his daughter_ exchange sexual innuendoes every time he sees them both together. Every single bloody time. Oh yeah, River's the one who initiated most of it but the Doctor went along with it and he seemed to be enjoying it.

Rory has just come to another realization. Sometime in the past or the future, the Doctor has had or will have sex with his daughter.

And that's just not going to stand. Rory's glad he's got his gladius with him; swords were _made_ for resolving issues like this one.

Lip already starting to curl, Rory is brought back to reality by what sounds a lot like Amy hyperventilating. Plainly she's not taking this well. Frankly, neither is Rory.

But he's used to shocks like this. He thinks he'll be alright.


End file.
